


Misplaced

by plothound



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Ball Fondling, Begging, Body Modification, Dry Orgasm, Excessive Orgasms, Forced Orgasm, Government Experimentation, Guy With Pussy But Also Cock And Balls, Human Experimentation, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Post Orgasm Torture, Post-Orgasm Torture, Vagina Growth, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, i have no idea how to tag this, just tons of chemically-induced orgasms, nipple sucking, post orgasm stimulation, pussy growth, ruined orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27428026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plothound/pseuds/plothound
Summary: A vaguely sci-fi short in which a soldier escapes from an experiment he can't remember and finds himself lost in the woods with confusing anatomical changes and debilitating arousal.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 17
Kudos: 264





	Misplaced

He wasn’t—he wasn’t supposed to have a pussy, he was sure of that. Pretty sure? A wobbling, gasping moan twisted out from between his lips, and he felt another pulse of slick drip down the inside of his thigh. He _ didn’t,  _ he  _ didn’t  _ have a pussy, he never had. Reede was a man, a soldier, two hundred pounds without armor, solid muscle all the way through, and he definitely didn’t have a pussy. 

What the hell was behind his balls, then?

He couldn’t stop. He was naked and exhausted and it was cold and the bushes and sticks and rocks hurt his feet and left scratches on his skin, but he couldn’t stop. It was so hard to remember. But he’d definitely broken out of someplace, that was for sure. He’d managed to get the restraint off his right wrist entirely, but the bands still clung to his other wrist and his ankles, trailing lengths of broken cable. He couldn’t remember who’d put them on, or what they’d been attached to, beyond vague flashes of a laboratory, or a medical facility, or something. He was supposed to have perfect recall, he’d been engineered for it, but now he could hardly remember anything. 

The godawful thrumming peaked again, and Reede’s pussy convulsed, and something dripped from his half-hard cock. He stumbled against a tree and clung to it desperately for a few seconds, just long enough for his knees to quit shaking and the contractions to subside—they couldn’t be  _ orgasmic  _ contractions—and then he was off again, panting and gasping, his run unsteady, staggering over the uneven terrain. The thrumming never stopped, and whatever the fuck was behind his balls cried out from the overstimulation.  _ Not a pussy, not a pussy.  _

He made it through four—five? fifteen?—some goddamn number more of definitely-not-orgasms, coming too close together, no one could get it back up that fast, not the horniest teenager, before one inevitably hit him while he was splashing through a cold, rocky stream, and he slipped. Something twisted on his way down, and by the time he hauled himself out onto the other stony bank, soaked, shaking with cold and exhaustion and something else, it was really starting to hurt. He crawled to a heap of larger rocks and leaned up against them, pulling his legs up almost into the fetal position. Sand and gravel stuck to his skin, and rocks dug into his ass and thighs, and he was cold and so, so hot. The thrumming wouldn’t fucking stop. 

The… the whatever they were hit harder when he was sitting still, without the running to distract him. The next one built just as steadily as the others, horrible stimulation making the muscles of his pelvis clench, and when it peaked, his entire abdomen flexed, and his thighs clapped together, and his toes dug into the gravel. He whimpered, and of course the stimulation kept fucking going. Why wasn’t there any  _ relief?  _

He had to look, figure out what was going on, what had happened to him. He wiped his hands on his forearms and cautiously allowed his shaking fingers between his legs. He felt hideously like he was putting his hands into a trap, like there was something dangerous behind his balls that would snatch his fingers and he wouldn’t be able to get them back. But he had to know, had to figure out what was going on and stop it, stop it, stop it, because there was another one going to come in a couple of minutes and he didn’t want it to.

His cock was fine. Big as ever, comfortingly thick and powerful, half-hard despite the cold and the fear and the pain, foreskin partially drawn back, head smeared with fluid. His hand was cold, and his cock felt blazingly hot, fever hot. It reassured him a little, and he got up the courage to check his balls, heart in his throat.

They were okay, too. Drawn up pretty close, understandably, but fully as large and weighty as he knew them to be. Hairless, though, perfectly hairless with either chemicals or the smoothest, softest shave Reede had ever heard of. But his balls were fine. Why was he so worried about them? Why was he so certain that there was something wrong with them? Why couldn’t he  _ remember?  _ He fondled them, his breathing shaky, and tried to convince himself to go further.

He did, eventually. He forced his fingers around the back of his balls, tracing the seam there. He had to fight hard for every centimeter. He didn’t want to know. He was fucking terrified of knowing. There was something wrong with him, and it scared him so much. He felt the firm curve of the front of his taint, and hoped to God it had always been that pronounced.  _ Please fuck please fuck let it be normal let it be normal.  _ How the fuck was he supposed to know? He’d played with his ass a couple of times, briefly, and of course he knew his cock and balls better than he knew his hands, but a guy just didn’t spend that much time with his taint. Maybe this was normal, maybe it was supposed to feel sensitive. And the wetness…  _ Sweat. Please God let it be sweat. Please please please fuck oh God please.  _ He could feel a distant, muffled vibration, the godawful thrumming.

His fingers brushed something soft and slick and wet, and hot, sick pleasure shot through him, and he made a noise that he’d never heard himself make before.  _ No! No God please no.  _ In a desperate last-ditch push, he shoved his hand all the way back, big fingers at his asshole, heel of his palm on his balls, and moaned in horror when he felt the unmistakable dripping folds of a goddamn pussy.

He was getting too close again, and he couldn’t stop himself from grinding against his own hand, little noises that could’ve,  _ should’ve _ been pain fighting their way out of him. He was so wet, he was so fucking wet, there was slick all over his hand, pussy absolutely pissing it, leaking like a sieve, and his shaking hand was just enough like proper stimulation for him to need more of it. He couldn’t stop. He had to rub himself, no finesse, just mashing his hand up into his folds and making more of those goddamn noises. His hand seemed to be more conscious than the rest of him, because it looked for a clit to rub, anything to give him what he needed, but he couldn’t find one. Fuck, he didn’t even have a clit, just a clenching hole and plump, swollen lips. He ignored the hole, he couldn’t bring himself to touch it, couldn’t, couldn’t, but he stroked the folds and pressed himself hard into his hand. He  _ needed,  _ he  _ needed.  _ What did he need? Why didn’t he know what he needed?  _ No!  _

He yanked his hand away and almost cried at the loss. That fucking thrumming was still going, and now he had to admit it was in his pussy. There was something inside him that was making him this desperate, that was pushing him and pushing him and pushing him, making his cock drip and his cunt drool and his chest heave with need. Why wouldn’t it stop, or—or finish the job, or something? His body clenched up in another not-quite-orgasm, this one more violent now that he wasn’t focusing on anything else. Everything tensed and pulsed and twisted, and he clapped his hand to his pussy, hard, not minding the sting, and there was so much slick, and his cock did  _ something,  _ but there was no relief, only sensitivity, and as the contractions subsided, the thrumming became unbearable. He writhed against the rocks. The sandy gravel between his legs was wet. He knew it was mostly the water he’d shed coming out of the stream, but a lot of it was unmistakably slippery. His pussy squeezed again, pushing a handful of slick into his palm, far too much, and he instinctively wet his cock with it. It was so warm. So good.

The next fucked up not-orgasm came too quickly, no more than a minute later, when he was still agonizingly oversensitive, and he cringed away from his own feverish rubbing, but couldn’t stop himself. He  _ needed,  _ but what he was doing wasn’t helping. What was it? What in the goddamn hell could he do to appease the fucking insatiable monster between his legs? Oh, God, the next one was already building. They were coming faster now.

He almost didn’t hear the rustling bushes, and when he did, it was all he could do to take his fingers away from his cunt. He tried to get up, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. Years of training and duty, pushing through pain and exhaustion and fear and all the suffering in the galaxy, and pleasure had him immobilized. He wasn’t going to be able to resist, he’d done all this running and crawling for nothing, they were going to take him right back to the facility he could barely remember. 

It wasn’t a soldier, or a team of soldiers. It wasn’t even a scientist. It was a big, shabby man in a dirty colonist’s jumpsuit, bearded and frowning, a long hunting laser in his hands. He approached Reede cautiously, looking deeply suspicious and confused and disgusted.

“Hide me,” Reede moaned. His pussy squeezed and dripped. “Please. Please, you gotta hide me, they’re looking…”

“The government?” the man said, not looking softened in the slightest.

“Yea-aahh…” His voice was awful, uncontrollable. “Please, don’t let them find me.”

The man looked around, then back at Reede, and then around again. He seemed to be teetering on the edge of a decision, and then, suddenly, he nodded and slung the laser over his shoulder. He came in close, got his arms under Reede’s, and heaved him up, grunting with the effort. “You walk?”

“Little,” Reede panted. He managed to stop himself from rubbing himself against the man’s leg, despite the rising tide in his pussy, and instead forced his legs under him. The one he’d twisted in the stream protested, but he ignored it. It wasn’t the joint, it was a pulled muscle or something. He’d had worse. The… the fucking  _ feeling  _ in his cunt, that was worse. They didn’t make it fifty feet before it peaked again, and Reede moaned, slick audibly splattering on the rocks, but the man ignored it and kept helping him along.

  
  
  
  


It was a shack in the middle of the forest, made of a mishmash of prefab parts, one room, one door, one window, but Reede almost cried when he saw it. He was cold and wet and in pain and he had to have come ten or twelve times by the time the man heaved him through the door, but now he could stop, finally, and it was warm inside, and the man let him down onto a metal bed with a cold plastic-covered mattress, no sheets, and only a thin wrinkled blanket, and that bed felt like heaven. He lay there, shaking, trying not to come, and after a few moments, failed. The man yanked the blanket away just in time, and he gushed onto plastic, groaning.

When his eyes refocused, the man was rubbing a large sanitizer wipe over him, getting off the worst of the grime and blood. The scrapes and scratches stung, but he hardly noticed. He gazed up at the man, eyes half-closed, lips parted, hips squirming as the thrumming continued through the sensitivity. He was learning to hate that part of this fucked up cycle, the near-pain that would last for a couple of interminable minutes before things turned to pleasure again, and he whined a little. It was a horrible, pathetic little noise, and the man looked up from his body, studying his face with a frown.

“‘M sorry,” Reede breathed. “I…” He didn’t know what to say. What could he possibly say? Where did he start? He didn’t even know what had happened to him, where he was, barely knew what planet he was on. Some backwater world, quiet, God, why was he here?

The man wiped a bit of drool from Reede’s lip. Even that touch sparked something hot in his belly. “You come from that installation in the valley?”

“I’m…” He must have, surely. Had he? “I think…”

The man pressed a bottle to Reede’s lips, and lukewarm water alerted Reede to the sudden realization that he was extremely thirsty. He sucked at the bottle fervently. “Don’t see where else you could’ve come from.” The bottle emptied quickly, and the man set it aside and pulled a new wipe from a battered package. “I didn’t hear any crashes or anything, and you’re not really beat up enough for that anyhow.” He wiped down Reede’s stomach, brushing past his navel, down lower, and then there was cold sharp wetness on Reede’s cock as the man wiped it clean, and then on his balls, and then the man hefted them, lifting them aside, and raised his eyebrows.

“Is it…” Reede wet his lips. “Please, what is it?”

“Well,” the man said slowly, “it sure looks like a pussy.” He pushed one of the lips a little to the side with his thumb, and Reede trembled. “You ain’t always had it, then?”

“No. No. No, I…” The thumb felt so good. Oh, God, it felt so good. But also horrible, like—like it was almost perfect, but not quite. “No. No, I have a cock.”

The man chuckled. “Yeah, I can see that. Pussy’s new, then. And you’re from that installation…” He moved his thumb absentmindedly, gliding effortlessly along slick folds, and Reede couldn’t stand it.

“”Please,” he croaked. “I need—I need something, I don’t—I don’t know what, but I need—”

“Relax,” the man said comfortingly. “I know what you need.” He took his thumb away and stood. Reede was so overcome with the sensation of loss, the feeling that he had almost had something, that he barely noticed the man unzipping his jumpsuit. He did notice, however, when the man knelt between his legs, jumpsuit open down the front but still on, and he suddenly saw the man’s cock, hard as a rock and by far the largest he’d ever seen, bigger than his own, bigger than anything he’d seen in the showers, long and thick, nested comfortably in a dark thatch of hair, and looking like a goddamn battering ram.

“I don’t—” he mumbled thickly. “Don’t—”

The man patted him on the stomach. “Sure you do. Sure you do. Now spread for me, baby.” He put his hands on Reede’s knees and pushed them further apart, gently but firmly. “There we go.” He cupped Reede’s balls, gave his cock a few easy strokes.  _ Oh God.  _ “This is what you need.”

The head pressed against his folds, and something in Reede went wild. He had no idea what it was, but suddenly he was whining and wriggling and he couldn’t control his body, hands going wherever the fuck they felt like, scrabbling at the plastic mattress, torso contorting, spine arching, mouth letting out all kinds of weird breathy noises from deep in his chest, his cock suddenly shockingly hard like it hadn’t been yet, even with all the goddamn half-orgasms he’d been having. “Oh, God,” he mumbled. “Oh, God, oh, fuck.” He was drooling already, fucking salivating over whatever was going to happen, and his cunt was on fire with need. He could feel it pulsing in time with his cock.

There was a lot of pushing. Reede’s mind was becoming more blurred and helpless by the moment, and he didn’t understand what was taking so long. The man was talking, sounding irritated, but Reede wasn’t processing anything he was saying. The only thing he was processing was when a finger entered him, and he peaked again, squeezing and squirting. It still wasn’t properly coming, but it felt closer than he’d gotten yet. His cock was hard enough to spurt clear fluid past his own navel. When he came back to earth, there were three fingers in his pussy, twisting and curling and probing, and his hips were moving in frantic little thrusts. The man had a hand on his pelvis, trying to keep him down and relatively still, but Reede had about thirty pounds of muscle on him, and his hips were doing more or less what they wanted to.

Then there were four fingers. Four blissful, horrible, almost-perfect fingers. Reede was distantly aware of a stinging in his pussy, some vague pain, but he didn’t care in the slightest. He squeezed consciously for the first time, and the fire in his groin roared. “Yes!” he groaned. He clenched harder, for as long as he could coordinate his muscles enough to do it, which wasn’t very long, and the man swore and withdrew his fingers. Reede moaned at the loss, but then the vast head of the vast cock was up against him again, his balls resting on the man’s shaft. “I need—”

The man pushed, hard, and there was a brief burst of pain, but there was a magnificent sense of rightness, and Reede came harder than he ever had in his life. Really came, finally, his cock spurting come the way it damn well should, balls pulled up so hard they hurt, his pussy clenching like a vise, his whole body writhing, and when the first wave subsided, there was another one, and another one, and another one, shaking him to the core, no,  _ dislodging  _ his damn core, oh, God,  _ coming, screaming,  _ was he even alive?

The cock forced its way a glorious inch further in, and Reede howled. Even with… whatever the fuck his body was now, he couldn’t come again that soon, but it was a close, close thing. He wailed and shook and tore at the bed. He couldn’t make words come, none of them, but he begged in pleading bellows like an animal, needing more, more, immediately,  _ now,  _ he was going to  _ die  _ if he didn’t get more. His pussy screamed with insane need, and he thought he might have pissed himself in desperation, and didn’t care in the slightest.

The man obliged him a little, fighting to squeeze in a little more. The jumpsuit was rough and greasy against the inside of Reede’s thighs, the zipper scraping along his chest and belly. Every sensation was a joy, even the cold plastic under him and the stings of his sanitized injuries. He was boiling over with ecstasy, and only being held back by how much he still needed. He was starting to identify the feeling he wanted, needed. He had to be full. That was what his pussy was demanding, to be  _ full.  _

When the man forced himself in further, apparently at least partially in response to Reede’s wordless begging, judging by the way he panted and grinned and told him how good he was going to feel soon, Reede felt another real climax rising. He wanted to cry with how good it felt. It was all so good. It was bad, because it wasn’t done yet, because he needed more, but it was so good. He felt stretched, vastly so, like the walls of his cunt were pulled paper-thin around the man’s cock. Even his lips down there felt taut. He hadn’t known that could happen, but he was so glad it could, and was happening to him. He needed it, and if he could be forced just a bit wider, he’d— 

He came again, another screaming, shaking orgasm that almost made him pass out. There was come all over his chest. The man’s hand was pressed up against his entrance, making sure the cock stayed in. Reede tried to beg for him to move his hand, push the whole thing in, give Reede what he needed, but it came out as a series of incoherent moans. He tried to get control of his own hands, but they were still flailing uselessly in the throes of climax.

Another finger’s width of cock pushed in. It was so much. There was so much, and not enough. Reede managed to focus his eyes long enough to get a decent look at what was between his legs, and saw, to his horror and complete, insane joy, that there were inches to go. In a sudden burst of inspiration, his mind and both his hands agreed on what to do, and he grabbed the man around the hips and yanked him forward. More cock squeezed improbably into him, and he let go almost immediately, already out of control again.

“—that again. Gonna make you happy, don’t worry.” The man was leaning over him, still talking, words flowing past Reede’s higher brain functions without disturbing them. “You’re so desperate, don’t worry, baby, we’ll squeeze every goddamn millimeter into you. Your pussy’s gonna be just fine, get what it needs.” A tongue swept across one of Reede’s nipples, and he whined. “That too? Poor baby, don’t worry, we’ll make your tits happy too.” Lips sealed around it and sucked hard, so hard it should’ve been painful, but Reede was long past pain, and he only moaned for more. The man pulled back, but kept the nipple between his lips, drawing it back and back and back until it finally slipped free with a wet  _ pop.  _ It stood out sharply, shiny and swollen, and Reede pushed his chest up in a desperate appeal,  _ please, please,  _ he wanted the other to be the same, and he wanted them both sucked and kissed and pulled at the same time, and he wanted more cock in his pussy, he wanted so much more… 

The man laughed at him, a low, dark chuckle. “Aw, does your pussy need more? I’ll give it to you, baby, just for you.”

It seemed to take about a thousand years of unending thrusts and squeezes and long, forceful pushes, during which Reede came many, many times, but at some point, the last bit of the man’s cock finally seated itself inside Reede’s cunt, and he screamed and came and sobbed and came and cried at how full he felt, and came and came and came, in so many furious waves that he thought he would die of it, and when that finally subsided, he became aware that the man was thrusting, each movement feeling like it was dragging half his cunt in and out along with it, and, on impact at his deepest point, feeling like an earthquake in his groin and up his spine. It was overwhelming, and he was so sensitive, but it was good, too, and he was almost disappointed when the man stilled after only a few thrusts and groaned and made a little bloom of heat deep inside. 

It helped that the man set to sucking his nipples again after that, alternating between them so that they both stood wet and fat and proud, and did that with his cock still stretching Reede to his limits, until he came to three additional quieter, whimpering orgasms, his own cock no longer really spurting, but simply drooling out a few drops of clear fluid in its mad, pulsing twitches, balls tight and beyond sore. Then, slowly, the man pulled out, a little at a time, kissing Reede’s nipples all the while. “Is that good, baby?” he whispered. “Did that feel good?”

“Yeah,” Reede mumbled, having regained his powers of speech somewhat. It had… it had felt good, oh, God, it had felt good, but there was still something wrong. He wasn’t… he wasn’t  _ supposed  _ to have a pussy, he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He needed to get out of here, somehow, and figure out what had happened to him… “I don’t…”

“Don’t worry,” the man said. His cock finally slipped all the way out, and Reede came one more time, a small, soft orgasm, like an aftershock. He barely moved in response. “There you go, that’s it.” He stepped away. Reede was so tired. So tired. Then the man was back, fingers at his cunt again, and then something else, like plastic. He lifted his head to look, and just barely managed it for a few seconds before he had to let it thud back down against the mattress. It was a thermos, a fairly large one, bigger around than his wrist, and the man was pushing it into his pussy. He didn’t have the energy to fight it, just laid there and sighed and moaned until it finally popped in, his lips clenching around the narrow part of the neck. It thudded promisingly against his deepest parts, but he was too tired to take advantage of it, even though his goddamn pussy still wanted it, at least a little.

“Yeah, that’s right. Come here.” The man helped him up, an impressive feat given Reede’s size and the way he was shaking like a newborn animal, and somehow managed to get him over to a makeshift bathtub that seemed to be made from a livestock feeder. He didn’t turn on the water, but stepped away for a moment.

Something jolted in Reede’s pussy, and he flinched. “No,” he muttered in rising horror. “No.”

The thrumming was starting again. Oh, God, when had it stopped? After he got into the shack, at least. Oh, no, no, why was it coming back? He dragged one of his hands onto his abdomen, trying to spy out where it was. It took massive effort. All the while, the intensity rose steadily, from almost nothing to mildly arousing, then to heavy, and then to about as hard as Reede remembered it being in the woods, and then  _ oh God  _ it kept going. And this time it was worse, because whatever it was was pressed up against the thermos, and that was echoing the vibrations. Reede tried to reach down and pull out the thermos, at least, but he was so tired, and the vibrations were only getting stronger, so much stronger. He keened, and kept trying to reach his pussy, but he couldn’t. There was only the building pressure inside him, rising and rising and rising, until he squirted out another of those horrible almost-orgasms that he’d been having earlier, and cried out in mingled pain and pleasure when the thrumming kept fucking going.

A comm beeped in the background. The man spoke into it. Reede heard, but was too occupied to understand.

“Yeah, I got another one. …Yeah, he’s fine. Little scraped up, but it could be a lot worse. …Oh, he’s not going anywhere. I gave him the pills in some water, dicked him down pretty good, and he still had the vibe in, so I used the remote, got him on that now. …Yeah, he made a damn mess. Put him in the bathtub, and he’s probably gonna drown himself in his own damn come if I leave him in there too long. Leaks like a faucet.

“…Look, you don’t have to hurry picking him up, okay? Come on, have I ever let you down? I’m telling you, man, just tell your boss you haven’t found him yet, come get him in a couple days. …So I can have some fun, fuck do you think? This is a good one. Great pussy, really needy—okay, fine. One day? Can I get one day? …Yeah! See, that’s what I’m talking about, hell yeah for the military, man, love you guys, long as you stay off my damn property. …Okay, fine, you’re welcome. …Oh, I will. You too.”

A finger and thumb rolled one of Reede’s nipples between them, and another hand reached down over his torso and past his balls to cup his pussy, rubbing his lips against the thermos as another half-climax rapidly approached. “Good news, baby,” the man breathed in his ear. “We still got some time together.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I managed to not only channel my horniness into writing, but also finish the damn thing. See, I can finish stuff quickly if I skip the setup, I'm just usually physically incapable of skipping the setup.


End file.
